Hallelujah
by RowenaR
Summary: A oneshot fic. Vignette about how Blenwell feels after… the incident with Kenzy in the workout room. Companion piece to “Paper Cup”. No standalone, sorry. Recommended reading “Odyssey” first.


**Hallelujah**

**Author:** RowenaR

**Rating:** M due to mature themes, mentioning of sex and like a million swear words.

**Category:** Drama/Romance

**Disclaimer:** Star Wars on the whole belongs to George Lucas but the characters mentioned here are children of my imagination. Respect that, please. "Hallelujah" is an all-famous song by Leonard Cohen (although I only have the version from the "O.C."-soundtrack, but that's not really a problem, I guess) which just inspired my to write this. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is made out of this (although I need it badly :p)

**Summary:** A one-shot fic. Vignette about how Blenwell feels after… the incident with Kenzy in the work-out room. Companion piece to "Paper Cup". No stand-alone, sorry. Recommended to read "Odyssey" first.

**Archive: **Sureeeeeee. Just write me a note where you're putting this baby ;)

**A/N:** I have always looked for a fitting song for a companion piece to "Paper Cup" (which has been lying on my hard-drive for like an eternity now), and after watching one of the first episodes of "The O.C." and thus listening to "Hallelujah" again (after hearing it in "Shrek") I suddenly had a kind of epiphany that _this_ was the song I had been looking for. Plus I just love the song and always wanted to write a story with it.

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* * *

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_**Hallelujah**_

_I've heard there was a secret chord  
That David played and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do you?_

_It goes like this...the fourth, the fifth  
The minor fall  
The major lift  
The baffled King composing Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah_

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you._

_She tied you to a kitchen chair  
She broke your throne  
She cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah_

_Maybe I have been here before  
I know this room, I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew you._

_I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah_

_There was a time you let me know  
What's real and going on below  
But now you never show it to me, do you?_

_And remember when I moved in you  
The holy dark was moving too  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah_

_Maybe there's a God above  
And all I ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you._

_And it's not a cry you can hear at night  
it's not somebody who's seen the light  
it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah_

* * *

Sithspit. 

How could I ever be so _stupid_?

Don't get me wrong, I don't mean the fact that I gave in to whatever crap had ridden me and started kissing her and undressing her and let myself be kissed and undressed by her and well… have this wild and live-changing sex with her. And I don't mean the fact that I let myself being bossed around into the work-out room to be her beat-the-crap-out-of-it-all-boy of the day. Or the fact that at this point I still could effectively hold up my reputation of not giving a damn about her.

No, I mean the fact that despite everything I try to tell myself I've come to actually _like_ her. Like her body which almost appears like a piece of steel rope, ready to burst every moment. Or maybe one of those marble statues of old warrior goddesses with their refined muscles, no ounce of fat on their bodies but full of strength. Like her no-nonsense way of dealing with people, her attitude, her wit, her devotion to her job… _Damn it!_

I wish everything was like it had been before. Before we started those work-out sessions and did something else than just glare and snap at each other. I wish I never got to touch her body or hear her genuinely laugh about something stupid I said. I wish I never got to get so close to her. And I wish I never had felt this incredible sexual tension that always was created in those matches.

I could have stopped it all, after the first match. It had already been there, this damn tension, already that thick that I almost had crushed her lips with mine when she was under me. I _should_ have stopped it.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. She made a fucking lovesick fool out of me. Took my heart and crushed it, ripped it, threw it carelessly away. With one little sentence. "After all, it was just sex." At first I thought exactly like this. Just sex. Just two people with pent-up frustration inside who needed to vent of a little steam and some strange attraction between them. And then I found myself thinking myself back into the work-out room, feeling her slightly sweaty skin under my fingers, roaming the taught muscles of her body, feeling her mouth on my shoulder… there was nothing tender about the way we were doing it but it just felt _right_. It was who we are.

And a while I still thought it was purely physical, purely needing someone to release all the tension inside. But then I found myself thinking about the way her eyes would gleam when we had engaged in a battle of wits, like she was enjoying every bit of it just for the sake of itself. And I remembered the strange sadness in her eyes I had seen in the only moment she had ever been vulnerable, just seconds after we both had climaxed, just seconds, before she told me that "after all, it was just sex". I wanted to know what it was, _who_ it was that lived behind the walls of scruffiness she normally builds around herself. And – which is the most stupid thing of it all – I suddenly found myself wanting to be the one to break the walls down and help her overcome the sadness.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ me. Big, bad womanizer Marten Blenwell got himself caught by the last woman he ever expected it to be. And the only one that will never fall to my charms. The only one I can never have is the one that cut my privates off and ripped my heart in two with just one little sentence. She'd like the irony of it all, I guess.

Yeah, Blenwell, way to get yourself screwed up for good.

Hallelujah.

Just bloody, fucking, sodding Hallelujah.


End file.
